This is how I show my love
by her ocean eyes
Summary: Set sometimes in a (happy) future. "Sometimes she has to remind herself of the fact that her true love only has one hand but she forgets because she doesn't care, it doesn't make him less whole and she loves him the way he is, doesn't need two hands when she has him. Emma certainly doesn't need any reminding now." Unapologetic smut. One-shot. Captain Swan.


**This is how I show my love**

_(I swear, JMo's interview and remark about the hook + the still lingering pain of "The Jolly Roger" (and __**someone**__ telling me to do this) led to this, I couldn't stop, forgive me!_

_Also __**warning**__: smut, light blood play and did I say __**smut**__?_

_Hope you enjoy!)_

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She doesn't even know what movie they are watching anymore - too occupied with staring at the screen without seeing anything because he runs his hook up and down her thigh and she can't concentrate on the events on TV because of the way it makes her feel.

She's suppressing the urge to wriggle out of his grasp for about five minutes by now - that's when he had started moving his left arm absentmindedly - and it's getting harder by the second.

Henry is over at Regina's (and Robin's) tonight, leaving the two of them alone in the flat they are living in.

Sooner or later they would have ended up on their bed anyways, in a tangled heap of sweaty bodies but Emma thought there would be time a nice evening with just the two of them - because even though she always wants to jump his bones (and she just has to give him one of those yearning looks and he is hard for her) they have a normal relationship. They go out, meet friends - mostly each one of them their own but sometimes they all get together for a night out - they watch TV together, they work - and they work so well, but that's probably what true love is.

Of course their relationship is not just sunshine and rainbows. They fight - about little things, like Emma wanting Killian to stop teaching Henry how to cheat in games (it ended with her teaching him better ways to cheat - poker, she calls it poker and he really likes it, especially when it ends with her taking off her clothes because she's losing) or him complaining about her habit of staying in bed until 11AM on Sunday mornings (in the end he gave in and though he will probably never admit it, he _likes_ staying in bed with her, just kissing and cuddling because Henry's in the next room - the lad sometimes even joins them), but sometimes their fights are more serious - when they talk about their past and one of them closes up and pushes the other away and they _understand_ but they are _together_ and that means sharing and talking and being honest and _knowing_ each other.

They always make up rather quickly because they can't stay mad at each other for too long though, they've been through enough, too many curses, too many people trying to separate them and he is the best thing that ever happened to her (apart from Henry, that is) and she is the best thing that ever happened to him (because she is all he needs and she gives him a family, a home and _love_).

He interrupts her thoughts with a jerk of his hook as he jumps next to her (a horror movie, they watch a horror movie, how could she forget that?), the tip of his metal attachment cutting through the soft flannel of her pajama bottoms, scratching over her skin and it feels _good_ somehow, the cool metal of his hook on her burning skin and she moans - she actually _moans_, sweet Jesus, what is this guy doing to her? - wanting more than just an accidental scratch.

He looks down at her immediately, his brow furrowed in alarm and she slowly turns her head, watching him as he takes in what have to be flushed cheeks and dark green eyes - he knows that look, has seen it countless times before but he doesn't understand and shifts his weight, his arms tightening around her to keep her from falling from the sofa, his hook pressing tighter to her thigh, this time piercing her skin and she whimpers, the confusion on his face growing.

Sometimes she has to remind herself of the fact that her true love only has one hand but she forgets because she doesn't care, it doesn't make him less whole and she loves him the way he is, doesn't need two hands when she has _him_.

Emma certainly doesn't need any reminding now.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head up, her lips finding his on instinct and even though she remembers the worried look on his face he kisses her back instantly, lips moving over hers in a way that is so familiar and still so very new because he always kisses her like it is the first and the last time they kiss, because not so long ago he _couldn't_, not so long ago she didn't remember but now is _now_ and they are able to kiss whenever they want and so they do.

He doesn't resist when she pulls one of her hands free from his grasp, placing it on his cheeks, her fingers caressing the stubbled skin of his jaw and he groans softly into the kiss when she sucks on his lower lip, opening his mouth, tongue tangling with hers instantly, his fingers dance over her upper arm as he continues to hold her and his hook _moves_, scraping over the soft skin of her thigh again.

She whimpers softly as she pulls away from him and wriggles out of his grip, leaving her with that same confused look on his face before she throws herself back on the couch, straddling him, her lips covering his again within a heartbeat.

His hand and hook move to her hips and she can pinpoint the moment he realizes the cut on her pants because he freezes beneath her, pulling his head back.

His blue eyes are large and worried and he looks so beautiful her heart skips a beat.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks in a whisper and Emma shakes her head quickly, a smile on her lips.

"You didn't, you just-" she stops herself and kisses him heatedly one more time before she continues. "I need to feel you."

He blinks up at her in wonder as she rocks her hips down into his, a soft needy sound falling from both of their lips. She lets her hands wander from to her hips, placing them over his hand and hook and then she pulls his left arm up until the attachment is hooked in the cleavage of her t-shirt, it's tip brushing over her skin.

"Emma-" he starts, still a little bit confused, still dazzled by those heated kisses but she just arches her back in reply until his hook is pressed against her chest and she's rocking against him, feeling him slowly starting to strain against his pants, sees his eyes grow darker.

"Rip it, please just rip it," she whimpers and he understands.

He jerks his hook down, rips her t-shirt and her bra, leaving a fine red line on her skin where he had run the metal tip over it and he leans forward, his mouth covering the beginning of that line immediately, sucking and nipping at her until she moves her hands into his hair and pulls him closer.

Emma leans back and Killian leans forward until she is the one on her back and he is hovering above her, his hand curling around her hip as his lips move along her collarbone, then lower, to her left breast, his hook coming up to the other one.

The cold metal brushes over her nipple and she whimpers as she feels it harden under his touch. He gazes up at her, a smile on his lips as he sucks her nipple into his mouth and she moans softly, her hands curling in his hair, pressing him closer.

She feels him smile against her skin before he raises his head and looks at her, love shining in his blue eyes as he leans up and presses his lips to hers.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbles into her mouth and she smiles against his lips, fingers coming up to his black shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced, nimble movements, shoving it from his shoulders.

He breaks away from her lips, gazing into her eyes and bracing himself on his good arm. He carefully runs his hook along her stomach, applying just a little bit pressure and she bucks into him, the tip of his metal attachment breaking her skin and she gasps because it _hurts_ but at the same time it feels _good_ and she can hear her blood rushing, feels the heat burning between her legs and never wants this feeling to stop.

"Killian," she moans and he looks down at her, a grin on his lips.

"You really like that, don't you?" he teases her and she closes her eyes and arches her back and wants more, _needs_ more than what he gives her right now.

"_Yes_," she moans.

His hook moves, tears the pants right from her, taking her panties down with it. Her eyes fly open as she feels the cold metal of his attachment press to the overheated skin between her thighs.

"Don't move," he orders softly, pressing a kiss to her jaw before he slides down her body. "I don't want to hurt you, my love."

When he is nestled between her legs, the curve of his hook pressed to her wet folds, his breath dancing over her hot skin she has to stop herself from squirming.

He turns his hook until its curve pushes her folds apart, then his hand joins the metal, gliding over her wet, slick heat, teasing her opening, before flickering to her clit, then he switches hand and hook, the metal curve pressing against her clit, brushing over it in tight circles and she wants to move, wants to arch into him, wants him to push his fingers into her but he doesn't, he teases and tortures and it feels so sweet and so bitter at the same time that she can feel the desire in her core boiling. It feels _good_ but it is not enough and finally she can't hold back anymore and rolls her hips forward, impaling herself on two of his fingers, forcing his hook to press tighter to her clit.

"Emma," he warns her softly but she ignores him, rolling her hips again and again until he begins to move his hand and hook again and she shatters, falls into a thousand pieces as the waves of her climax take her and toss her around until she is floating, floating on soft waves as he brings her down from her high.

She looks down at him when he removes his hook from her core and she watches him as he cleans it with his tongue, feeling need and lust beginning to pool between her legs again.

She beckons him with her fingers, a cheeky smile on her lips and he grins up at her, moving up her body again until he hovers above her, rolling his hips into hers, letting her feel that he wants her just as much as she wants him and _gods_ she wants him.

"You're acting reckless," he scolds her gently but she only smiles up at him, feels the pink tint to her cheeks, the swell of her lips.

"You like it."

He chuckles at that, giving her an agreeing nod and she lets her hands wander down to the front of his pants, undoing the laces with quick, practiced movements, shoving them down until her fingers curl around his hard length, moving up and down slowly as she tilts her head up and kisses him. He returns her kiss with a groan and she smiles into the kiss as she continues to move her hand, making him grunt into her mouth.

One of her hands comes to cup his cheek and she bucks her hips, leaning up. As always he understand and leans back, letting them switch positions and again she straddles him, this time with much less clothing and burning desire and she guides him into her quickly, settling on his lap, his cock slipping into her in one slow motion.

She takes a moment to adjust to his size, wrapping her arms around his neck, hands splaying out on his shoulders as she brings her lips to his and kisses him. He wraps his hooked arm around her in return, his hand on her hip, his hook pressing into her back, without breaking her skin - _at least not yet_.

She lifts her hips slowly, circling them as she lets herself sink back onto lap and he moans, breaking away from her lips, pressing his forehead into hers.

She cracks her eyes open as she starts to bounce on his cock, not once stopping the circular motions of her hips and she knows it's driving him crazy because his groans become louder and longer and it sounds amazing, _feels_ amazing - just the knowledge that _she_ is the one making him _that_ aroused is enough to push her further to another approaching orgasm.

"You're so tight, love," he croaks. "So wet."

With another moan she picks up her pace, her nails dig into his skin, not breaking it but leaving crescents behind as she tilts her head back, baring her throat to him and he immediately leans forward, pressing his open mouth to her throat, teeth nipping and sucking on her skin.

It's too much, she wants to come so badly but she's not quite there yet but then he thrusts his hips up to hers, meeting her halfway, applying pressure on his hook and it breaks her skin, pain rushing through her and she would have _never_ expected this but the pain mixed with the pleasure is what pushes her over the edge and she falls apart, falls forward and sinks into his arms.

Her walls clench around his cock but the pirate doesn't stop the movements of his hips, rolling into her over and over again until he shatters too, coming buried deep inside of her, her name falling like a prayer from his lips, together with a confession of love, a vow for _eternity_ that would have scared her only months ago but now she can do nothing else than tell him she loves him too.

Breathlessly she rests her head on his shoulder and he leans his against hers too, both of them breathing hard, trying to catch their breath again. His hook slowly slips down to her hip and his hand runs up her back and she yelps when his fingers brush over the wound the tip of his hook has left behind.

He pulls away from her immediately, staring at her with a worried frown, but she just lifts a hand to his face, fingers dancing over his jaw before she leans forward and kisses him softly.

"Don't you dare feel guilty about this, Killian," she murmurs against his lips and he sighs. "I wanted this more than anything," she quickly adds before he can say anything else or feel guilty about something that made her feel so _good_ that she can't wait to repeat it.

She gets up from his lap, his cock slipping out of her, his seed running down her thighs and she smiles, extending her hand to him.

"Care to join me for a shower?" she asks cheekily and he actually _groans_, getting up from the couch and getting rid of his pants as quickly as possible before he takes her hand and basically pulls her to the bathroom, already wanting her again.

.

.

When Henry returns from Regina's the next morning he immediately sees the scratch on Emma's shoulder (left there from the second and third round under the shower) and when he asks where it comes from he watches his mother blush and the pirate next to her chuckle and he decides he doesn't want to know what's _really_ going on between them so he pretends to buy the crappy story they try to sell him.

(Later that day he finds a piece of fabric peeking out from below the couch but Emma snaps it away from him the second he picks it up, muttering something about clumsily ripping her pajama pants and Henry is pretty sure he is traumatized - he isn't but he still thinks that those are information he _never_ wanted to have, he's _twelve_ for God's sake!)


End file.
